


The Hash Slinging Slasher

by twinkfloyd



Category: Crosby Stills & Nash (Band), Guns N' Roses
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 13:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21961045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twinkfloyd/pseuds/twinkfloyd
Summary: Crosby and Slash smoke some hash, in a grab for cash Graham Nash attempts to be fash with a GNR mash (but crashes during a clash when things go to trash), Stills, acting rash, lashes out and bashes Slash before he can make a rash dash.





	The Hash Slinging Slasher

**Author's Note:**

> For Jae Nunyah. 'Graham Nash,Slash (Crosby, Stills & Nash,Guns N Roses): Nash and Slash switch bands.'
> 
> Big CSNY fan growing up, can't quite say the same about GNR. Hopefully this is funny enough to make up for that.
> 
> "T-the sash ringing the flash singing the cr-crash... pinging-" "The hash slinging slasher!"

“You notice something different about Graham recently?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, there’s definitely _something_ , I can’t place my finger on it…” 

Slash sat nonplussed in the back of the bus watching a pair of dinosaurs debate his existence from behind his shades. “Well he has been awful quiet lately, and when he does talk it sounds like he’s got a cold or somethin’.” 

“That could be it, maybe he’s goin’ through a phase. You’re never too old to go grunge they say.”

“Is that true. Hey Graham, you need some Nyquil buddy? We could go check out the Hot Topics at the mall later if you’re feelin’ a li’l better.”

He spoke up mumbling, “Yeah I’d like that.”

Meanwhile, across town Nash was trying hard to ingratiate himself into the new band. 

“I don’t know Slash, this new folk angle you’re suggesting is really harshing our GNR vibes.” 

“Yeah dude, ever since the accident you’ve been actin’ real weird,” ~~Izzy~~ Dizzy leered. 

Graham recentered himself explaining to his friends, “You, _do know_ , that I’m not actually Slash trapped inside the body of an aging white man. I told you before, my name is Graham Nash. When I said these things, I was not telling jokes, you were listening right?”

Duff narrowed his eyes staring for a long second, Graham growing uncomfortable under his gaze. “...Alright Nash Slash, I see what sort of games you’re playing at. We can try it your way but don’t say nobody told you so.”

“Told me what, what is anybody telling me? I’m not trying to trick you or anything I was just hoping to update my image and become relevant with the youths again. What do I have to do to convince you this?” Graham was nearly at his wits end, wondering if perhaps this was all just a joke played at his expense, Slash seemed all too eager to trade places with him (‘yeah ok whatever’). He hadn’t given it a thought what was in it for him, could this switch possibly have been, I don’t know, a _mistake_?

“Graham, we need to talk,” Stephen huffed. Slash lifted his head a fraction in response. “You keep stepping on my solos, taking them for yourself. Not groovy. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, there’s something up and this new rebellious attitude- it might’ve been cool 20,30 years ago but not for rhythm guitarist your age. Croz may put up with this but I won’t.” 

“....ok….”

As Stephen stormed off, David peaked his head in the door, “Don’t take it too personally, he just needs to smoke and bowl and blow off some steam.” He gave him a pat on the shoulder and pulled some rolling papers and a seemingly innocuous baggie from his pocket, “Maybe you and I should too. You know what I say, never hurts, must be good for you.” 

Slash gave him a small smile accepting the invitation, the first moment he'd really felt welcomed into this band. "Thanks man, I feel real close to you right now."

"C'mon now, that's the pot talking." Croz passed it off, lighting up.

Slash came over and put his hand on his shoulder joining him, "No, this is me, this is real."

"Dude... ...Ever notice your how your fingers are little branches, like, at what point do you end, they sort of just go into infinity?"

“So should we be putting your new persona on the CDs, do a press release?” The group inspected eight posters featuring Guns And Roses/Guns ‘N’ Roses/Guns & Roses/GNR with Slash/Nash Slash. “If this is how you wanna identify or whatever that’s up to you but we need you to make up your mind what’s it gonna be.”

Graham inhaled a sharp breath through his teeth, deciding whether it’d be easier just to go along with it at this point. “So everybody’s cool with Nash Slash?” Axl looked around uncapping a sharpie. The room more or less was in a noncommittal consensus with Graham exhaling with a shrug. A disjointed chorus of ‘sures’ and ‘fines’, ready to sign this change into effect when there came a brisk bark, “ **I’M NOT**.” 

The door swung open to reveal a person in a trenchcoat and sunglasses, face completely shrouded in bandages like the invisible man. A lightning bolt crackled behind them melodramatically. 

“And who the hell are you?” 

“I’m the _real_ Nash the Slash of Canada’s FM and I’m here to dispute a copyright infringement!”

“Wait what’s going on?” Dizzy looked around deeply confused. 

“Yeah how dare you come in here and accuse Slash of copycatting some Yummy Mummy lookin’ dink I’ve never heard of,” Axl lashed back. 

“Slash-” he looked around, “I don’t?” Axl clarified pointing at Graham. 

“That’s... you know that’s actually Graham Nash, from the Hollies?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Graham blustered throwing up his hands. “This whole thing has just been a huge misunderstanding.”

The band was dumbfounded staring at each other in silence, Axl’s expression furrowing angrily at the realization of this betrayal. “Wait... so... then where’s Slash???” 

Slash attempted to turn his head to the side to look at the old man snoring on the couch slumped over with a bong between his legs, the rim pressing into his forehead. He gave up, powerless to fight the thrall of whatever he'd just been smoked, relaxing and idly staring down at his hands as they stretched further and further away from him. Turning them over and wiggling his fingers he mused to himself, “Whoa. Maybe I _am_ Graham.”


End file.
